Ripeness is All

by Jesse Roarke

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Ripeness Is All

  By JESSE ROARKE

  Illustrator SUMMERS

  [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Fantastic Stories of Imagination May 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

  _Shakespeare wrote it, in the tragedy of King Lear--a phrase to live by:

  Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither;_

  He was disturbed, but he did not know it. Murky, agitated waters creptup in his vast subconscious world, and sought the threshold, the mouthof the pit, the slope of the clean shore; little rainbows of lightnow and then flashed over the waters. They heaved, and against thesluice-gates they beat, sullenly. There was a yielding, but the greatforce was contained.

  He left his Pad, curiously mopping his brow a little, and furrowing itbetween the eyes. It came to him that he was hungry. He stepped to thecurb, pushed the button, and leaned against the post, as if waiting, orin thought. Almost immediately a Car appeared, in a cheery orange andgreen. He almost shuddered, and he almost knew that he did so. Then hebrightened, stepped into the car, and voiced his desire.

  He was carried at a moderate pace through clean, broad streets and pastbright, shiny buildings and smiling parks and gardens. He came to thetop of a high hill, saw the sparkling blue bay in the distance, andthought vaguely of sailing upon it. On his face he felt a brisk spray,and the air was tanged with salt. Then a warmed, faintly perfumedglow dried and composed him, and the Car shut off all its machineryand glided to a stop. He got out, ever so comfortable, and entered aluxurious Kitchen, in which he had not dined for several days.

  The doors opened automatically, and a smiling android, gaily featuredand clothed, conducted him to a table. She was a soothing sight: yes,that's what it was. He ordered a sumptuous meal, rubbing his amplewaistline in anticipation.

  "Dig dig!" crooned the waitress.

  He patted good-naturedly her well-moulded behind as she turned; sheglowed sweetly back over her soft and delicate shoulder. He wondered ifMeg was enough, and decided that, well, for the time being, he guessedshe was. No use hurrying things. The waitress returned and served themeal. As always, it was excellent. He finished with a leisurely bottleof wine and a cigar, pinched the waitress's firm yet ever so yieldingthigh, and departed.

  Then a deep stirring almost took hold upon him. Yes, that was whathe needed. It had been several months now. He pushed another button,and a rosy pink Car appeared to his service. "Take me to a House, youknow what I mean?" he said, as he arranged himself upon the pearl greycushions. The Car glided away.

  * * * * *

  On and on along the shore of the ocean they pleasantly careened. Atlength they turned into a rich garden bower, and stopped in front ofa great mansion overlooking the waves. He alighted; the Car departed.Profusely bloomed scarlet and golden and azure flowers, everywhere;succulent and bright was the lavish green. The doors opened, and a Womanreceived him. She was past child-bearing, motherly, and smiling.

  He smiled back, and said, "You got one, huh?"

  "Of course," she answered.

  He sat down to wait.

  And while he waited, he almost thought. Meg was good, all right, butwhy wasn't she enough, sometimes? He tapped his thumb-nail against histeeth in a few moments of near perplexity, and then desisted. Soon abevy of charming Girls entered the room and paraded for him, laughingand smiling. He settled upon a petite brunette with cherry lips. Shestripped him of his clothes, and they went walking in a private garden.

  In an inner bower they sat down to a rustic table, and were served byrobot with a heady aphrodisiac wine. On the grasses and the petalsof flowers, overlooking the sea, they entwined their limbs and theirbodies, and he nearly enjoyed her. He thought that once he had enjoyedthis activity indeed, and wondered whether it were so.

  He sat looking over the waters, trying to muse. The androids werephysically perfect, flesh meeting flesh, clinging to it, thrilling withit. They were warm, they whispered, they strained and cried. They werefreely available, for every man and woman. None need be unsatisfied.

  But he did not know all of this, history and psychology were lost tohim and he could never keep a connected train of thought; his beingunsatisfied could not penetrate to his consciousness. He did not quiteknow that flesh cried out for something more than flesh, and hadalways done so. He did know, more or less, that there was the matterof population, and that real men and real women had, at mysteriousintervals, to copulate. That was the way it was. He had once spent sometime in a House himself, meeting the requirements of an endless varietyof Girls. He supposed that some of them had borne the issue of his seed,though he did not suppose it in these terms. But it was better not toknow these things for certain, and not to have anything to do withthe rearing of children, after the early mother-feeling was over. TheSchools could take care of that better than people could.

  She snuggled against him.

  "What say, Man?" she said: "What's eatin yuh?"

  He did not know how to answer. He tried to talk, tried to break through,to clarify.

  "What's it, huh?" he nearly pleaded. "All this, I mean. Like what's itfor?"

  She stretched out on the grass and looked at him a moment.

  "Search me," she ventured. "I guess maybe what you need's a Bed."

  He guessed she was right.

  * * * * *

  They went back to the mansion through the twilight, and establishedthemselves in one of the rooms. The soft curtains were drawn, the Bedwas large, the sheets were silky and creamy. She reclined on her back,and the mattress moulded itself perfectly to her form.

  He lay down beside her, and caressed her. She clasped him tight toher breast. And he was clasped also by an invisible but very palpablefield of energy, that directed his movements and charged him with aninexhaustible and ceaseless power. He held her tight, and the forceentwined them. They were one throbbing ecstasy, and only at the verylast endurable moment were they given release.

  Then the Bed slowly soothed them, massaged them, and invigorated themonce again. Throughout the night it continued, activity and repose,until toward the dawn he fell into a dead sleep, which lasted until thefollowing morning.

  He did not know that he dreamed. He did not consciously remember anyof it. He only knew, as he ate his ample breakfast, that he was not sothoroughly at peace as he should have been. And he knew that it wasuseless to ask the Woman, or one of the Girls.

  But the Woman's androids did well by her, it seemed. Maybe he had bettergo home to Meg.

  "What the square, anyhow?" he said to himself. A little more rest in hisfamiliar surroundings, and he would be all right. A Bed always took alot out of a man. He arose to go.

  "Goodbye, dear," the Woman said, as he came to the head of the mainpath. She was serene and smiling.

  He adjusted his tunic, and smiled in reply. Yes sir, the old world wasin good shape, just like always. He signaled for a Car. The bright oceanagain passed by him, and the broad sands, and he dozed.

  * * * * *

  The dreams were more importunate, this time. When he awoke, with a blankstart, the Car was cruising aimlessly. He looked around, and broke intoa sweat. There was a button he had to push, somewhere, there was ahandle he had to take hold of. He stammered out "Stop--now!" and steppedonto the curb. The car sped away, to another summons. He was before anEmporium, but he did not enter. Instead, he did an unprecedented thing:he went for a walk, t
hrough the streets of the City. This was not done,and none of the occupants of the passing cars observed him.

  He was really wondering, now. Could something be wrong? Thispossibility, with all its full horror, had never entered his mindbefore; indeed, he did not even have the conceptions of rightnessand wrongness, and yet there was the inescapable word, "wrong". Hisagitation increased. He found himself with the hardly formulated ideathat a school was a place where one learned something, and he did notknow what this could mean.

  He thought of the School that he had attended. All the young people ofthe District of Fransco attended it: they had been told that there wereother Schools, in other districts, and that they were all the same.He had believed it, and forgotten about it. What did it matter? Onedistrict was as good as another. He had never travelled. He knew a Manwho had gone to the District of Shasta, but he had not been interestedin hearing about it. He remembered that the Man had said it was all thesame thing, not worth the bother.